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CARTER 



PLANT 



THE TALE OF A 
DEVIL DOG 



By 

WILLIAM A. CARTER 

* • 

One of Them 
Developed by 

PASCAL J. PLANT 



Published by 

THE CANTEEN PRESS 

2905 Georgia Avenue, N. W. 
Washington, D. C. 



*'t. 



Copyright 1920, by 
PLANT AND CARTER 



NOV 15 1920 
0)CI.A604140 



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PREFACE 




EGINNING with the days of 
peace, prior to the Great 
World War, we attempt to de- 
scribe the life of a Marine 
"rookie" in "boot camp" and 
the process of training that re- 
sults in the making of a man. 
Then, in a cruise to the Tropics to 
where news of America's entry 
into the World War is flashed to 
the fleet, we lead on to the days of practice and 
action, cover concisely every offensive and defensive 
the Marines engaged in, enumerate many unusual 
and interesting incidents that occurred "over there," 
return home, and, once again take up the pursuits of 
peace. Our purpose is, pritnarily, to interest and en- 
tertain you with deeds not burdened with dates and 
places. In fact, no attempt is made to write a 
complete history of those terrible days and all that 
the Marines did during them. 

What follows is what one pair of eyes observed. 
A brigade can spread over a wide area and it is 
obvious that no private in any unit could be every- 
where at the same time in any area ; hence no apol- 
ogy is made for omissions. 

Reviews by qualified critics concede "The Tale of a 
Devil Dog" to be a worthy contribution to the record 
of the Marine Corps and we are glad to have collabo- 
rated in its production. 

William A. Carter, 
Pascal J. Plant, 

Authors. 
7 




CHAPTER I 
The Making of a Man 

VERY man can recall how as a 
kid he and his buddies specu- 
lated upon their future. Scores 
of my playmates declared that 
the height of their ambition was to 
become a policeman, others had 
dreams of renown as the world's 
champion pugilist, some were em- 
bryo lion tamers, while a few cast 
their horoscopes as mechanics, doctors, lawyers and 
statesmen ; but I was imbued with the desire to be- 
come a chauffeur. There was an undercurrent of 
wanderlust in my veins and I always had a hunch 
that I would see more of the world than the few 
square miles that comprised the area of my home 
town, Springfield, Missouri, not far from Kansas 
City. The lure of travel never tempted me to ven- 
ture forth in a box car. I was not a fastidious 
youth, I merely had a fixed idea that the proper way 
to see the great U. S. A. was by auto, and I pro- 
ceeded to learn all I could about all kinds of cars. 

I was now in my twentieth year, vigorous, hearty, 
robust and contented with my employment in the 
local railroad shops. At this time, which was in the 
summer of 1916, the United States Marine Corps 
opened a recruiting station in the main street of my 



home town. The posters on display, the wonderful 
views of the world exhibited, and the slick sergeant 
on duty, all awakened my dormant desire to see 
something of God's universe. I felt myself going — 
going — gone, and just naturally enlisted. Then fol- 
lowed a preliminary examination, an educational test 
in writing and spelling, and a physical test in sight,, 
color, hearing, teeth, throat and heart. I was put 
through various stunts to discover broken, fractured 
or deformed bones; and having no fingers missing, 
no flat feet, my weight being in proportion to my 
height, I was passed, subject to a final examination 
later. I was shipped to the Recruit Depot at Parris 
Island, South Carolina, where I entered the "Boot 
Camp," a boob of a rookie, with others, and took the 
final degrees in the making of a man. 

We were first put in the detention camp, as we had 
not been fully accepted. A chart of identification 
was made of each man, showing in detail every scar 
and birthmark. Prints were made of our hands, 
entire, and of each individual finger. Another phys- 
ical examination followed, which was the final test 
for fitness, and then came inoculation and vaccina- 
tion,, with their resultant temporary langour, which 
made us immune to typhoid and smallpox. 

The average near-man is a night-bird and natur- 
ally the feathers of some drooped the first night in 
"Boot Camp" when we were disciplined to go to 
roost at taps. Reveille also gave us a jolt the first 

10 



morning, and making up a cot was a domestic stunt 
never performed before by many "a Son of Rest" in 
the bunch. There was a brief period of reaction 
when all of us seemed to miss something, or some- 
body—home, the best girl, friends, or favorite 
eats;— but no one admitted it. Singing, playing 
cards, checkers, pool or billiards, boxing, reading and 
writing relieved the tension and we, who had passed, 
were anxiously waiting to get into our uniforms. 

Standing, eventually, before the Commanding Of- 
ficer in his office, we were sworn in when each man 
took an oath to render faithful service to the Gov- 
ernment of the United States for four years, not to 
desert, and not to betray his country in any way. 
We were then full-fledged Marines— "Goodbye Cits ! 
So-long collars! Farewell neckwear! Oh, you Khaki! 
Ah, there,, Field Hat ! It was a happy bunch, cast at 
last in the role they longed to fill. Peacock Alley 
pales in comparison, for there was pride and patriot- 
ism in every strut of these newly acquired nephews 
of Uncle Sam, and the rakish slant of every field hat 
was typical of a Yank. 

Mothers, sisters, sweethearts and many a pal back 
home would have laughed at and guyed us if they 
could have seen our washlady act a few days later, 
as we laundered our khakies and underalls. It was 
another degree in the science of domestic art being 
acquired by us, and there was not a grouch in 
evidence. 



11 



For days now we were put through foot drills, 
being taught to keep step with each other in squad 
movement, to the music of a much "be-hash-marked" 
drill-sergeant's voice. If you made a bull and the 
eagle-eyed sergeant saw it, you were balled out good 
and proper, and if repeated, you were made to run 
around the parade grounds a few times. After the 
foot drills were gotten down pat we took our place in 
a sunset parade — retreat — but having no rifles, we 
fell in behind the older companies. 

It was not long, however, after a series of skirm- 
ish drills, that rifles were issued to us, and, believe 
me, no Christmas stocking with a pop-gun sticking 
out of it ever made a kid feel happier than we 
rookies when the new shiny Springfield rifles, bay- 
onets and all, were handed to us. Now that "John- 
nie got his gun" the Manual of Arms had to be 
learned. Some of us were so clumsy in handling our 
guns that it was not infrequent to knock another 
fellow's hat off, and at the command "Order,, Arms !" 
to drop what seemed a ton weight upon our own feet 
instead of landing the rifles on the ground. More 
necessary and well-merited balling-out, but by this 
time our hides had hardened a little and it didn't 
seem like a death sentence. 

Target practice was the next degree. Standing, 
kneeling, squatting and prone are the positions, and 
you may assume a poise in any of these positions 
most comfortable to yourself. While in the position 

12 



ordered we practiced "snapping in," which was 
merely an imaginary firing at an imaginary target, 
the rifle being empty. The real thing is always best, 
and at last, after a few weeks of practice firing with 
real ammunition at real targets, the day came when 
we fired record practice. 

The classifications are marksman, sharpshooter 
and expert. The word "record" aroused our mettle. 
Will you disqualify and be demoted from a buck 
private to a grease ball, kitchen police, or messman? 
"No," said I. "Bang!" "Siz!" Up showed the 
white disc! Score five— "A bull's eye" said I to my- 
self. "Private Carter, first shot for record— 5!" 
cried out the scorekeeper. Shot after shot at differ- 
ent targets, at different ranges and distances fly 
through the air. If you qualify as marksman you 
are rewarded with $2.00 per month extra ; as sharp- 
shooter with $3.00, and as expert with $5.00, in 
addition to getting a medal to wear certifying your 
qualification. 

Fourteen weeks, varied in their daily routine, had 
developed muscle, appetite, strength and manliness, 
and had taken the conceit out of all. The favorite 
calls were "Mess" and "Pay." The latter was 
sounded only once a month in the "Boot Camp," but 
when first heard was never forgotten. Exhibition 
drills were given to prove that we were qualified for 
duty and after being on post many times we learned 
the importance and felt the responsibility of guard- 
ing the lives of men and Government property. 

13 



Selection for detail was now made, and bunkies 
were separated, some were sent to land stations, 
some to the Tropics,, and others to battleships and 
cruisers. It was my good fortune to be detailed, 
among others to the U. S. S. Florida, and I became 
a "Soldier of the Sea," with only a $13,000,000 ship 
for a home ! 

We joined her at Norfolk, Va. Our quarters were 
amid-ship, on the gun deck, and it was not many 
hours after reporting, clean and sober, that we had 
roamed all over her, from double bottoms to the tops 
of the cage masts. The first real novel experience 
we had aboard ship was to sleep in a hammock with- 
out rolling out ; but there were other things to learn, 
both exciting and interesting, consisting of rope tie- 
ing, manning the guns, passing ammunition, loading 
and firing. We also learned before long that "Turn 
To" in ship language was a simple English expression 
with a meaning all its own. They were welcome 
words because the toil they brought in coaling ship 
and taking on stores, when every man in the crew 
did his bit,, compensated for a cruise or a run some- 
where, and we all had the "bull-fidgets" to be on 
the go. 



14 




CHAPTER II 
A Run to the Tropics 

HE day came to get under way. 
We were bound for the South- 
ern Drill Grounds, off the Vir- 
ginia Capes, where we — still 
rookies, unbalanced in step and 
stomach, while the ship rolled — 
were to have target practice with 
five and twelve-inch guns. 

Positions were assigned to us in 
a five-inch gun crew, which comprised a gun 
captain, who is generally a non-commissioned of- 
ficer, a sight setter, pointer, trainer, tray man, 
three shellmen and three powdermen. Both in 
target practice and real battle orders are re- 
ceived from the fire control through speaking tubes 
by the sight setter, who immediately passes them on 
to the gun captain to be carried out. The gun cap- 
tain's position is at the breech-block. He opens the 
chamber of the gun for loading and places a primer 
in the firing lock. At the same time there is also 
being performed by the rest of the crew splendid 
and quick action in loading the gun. The trayman 
places the tray in the breech of the gun to protect 
the threads of the screw box. The shell is passed 
by the third shellman to the second and by him to the 
first shellman, who heaves it into the breech of the 
gun. A bag of powder is taken from the powder can 

15 



by the third powderman and passed by him to the 
second, who passes it to the first powderman, each 
one handling it quickly and carefully, to prevent 
tearing its silken mesh. The first powderman places 
the bag of powder behind the shell previously placed 
in the gun, the trayman removes the tray, the gun 
captain closes the breech and calls out ''Ready-One." 
During the process of loading the gun the pointer 
and trainer are bearing on the object to be fired at. 
The distance and direction have been placed on the 
range and scale discs by the sight-setter, who has 
received orders down the voice tube from the control 
officer. The pointer then knows the gun is ready to 
be fired. When the cross hairs register on the ob- 
ject to be fired at, the pointer presses a key directly 
under his right thumb, which electrically detonates 
the primer in the breech of the gun. A spark from 
the primer passes into the powder, which, burning, 
forces the shell out, causing a terrific explosion and 
a heavy jar. The recoil of the gun is about eighteen 
inches and as it slides back automatically into bat- 
tery the first shot is completed, which, from start to 
finish is accomplished in approximately ten seconds, 
three of which are consumed in the actual firing of 
it. This process is repeated for each successive shot. 
The only difference between firing five-inch shells 
and those above twelve inches is that a trolley is 
employed for the emplacement of the larger shells, 
which weigh upwards of 1400 pounds. The powder 
bags are also passed mechanically by means of cars 

16 



to hoist them from the handling room to the gun 
turret above, and, because of the great difference in 
the weight of shells and the number of bags of pow- 
der used in firing the large guns, about one minute 
and a half is required to complete a shot. 

After target practice at the Southern Drill 
Grounds, with several days of maneuvering at sea 
playing war games, we returned to Hampton Roads, 
Virginia, and every one was glad to get shore leave. 
Then came the two great holidays. Thanksgiving and 
Christmas, when one's thoughts naturally turned 
to home. Thanksgiving was spent at sea. A spe- 
cial menu was served — turkey 'n' everything, and 
we all felt like millionaires for a day. Christmas 
was spent at Norfolk, Virginia, aboard ship, docked 
at the Navy Yard. The dinner was great, the real 
spirit of Christmas was in the air and the ship's 
mail orderly gladdened many a heart as he unloaded 
his sack with packages from home and friends. Not 
only was there a Christmas tree, holly, and ever- 
greens festooned, but a miniature reproduction of 
the ship made of delicious cake, about six feet long 
and weighing two hundred pounds. This was saved 
until New Year's Day, when, amid festivity, every 
crumb of it was devoured. 

Next came a period of hustle and bustle. The 
ship was now in dry dock, her bottom being scraped 
and painted, and we were taking on stores for a run 
to the Tropics with the Atlantic Fleet. War games 

17 



were indulged in enroute for about twelve days, 
when each of us had experience in standing watch 
at sea. It was also the first time for many of us to 
see, under natural conditions, such creatures of the 
deep as sharks, whales and flying fish and always 
the sea-gulls followed in our wake. At night we 
would sit in groups in the stern of the ship and gaze 
out into the endless black distance, thinking a thou- 
sand things. Faces of friends and loved ones would 
seem to appear and pass on into space as the ship 
rolled along, the silence being disturbed only by the 
rumble and pounding of the engine and the rushing 
of water as the propellers churned the waves. 

At last land came in sight. It was Santo Do- 
mingo, and fast upon the beach, imbedded in the 
sand and rocks was the U. S. S. San Diego, which 
was carried there a few days previous by the fury 
of a hurricane. The sun was setting over the island, 
making a tropical memory-picture never to be for- 
gotten. Morning found us nearing the shores of 
Culebra, which we approached by way of a small 
bay, it being impossible for the entire fleet to enter 
at the same time. After dropping anchor about 
noon, recreation was granted until sundown, and if 
ever humans acted like wild colts, the crews of this 
great fleet surely did, as they scampered up the sur- 
rounding hills to get a bird's eye view of the fleet, 
harbor and city. It was a relief from the long time 
spent aboard ship. 

18 



We encountered the natives, most of whom were 
Spanish-Negroes unable to speak English or to 
understand us. Their dress v/as somewhat scant 
and groups could be seen around water holes close 
to the shore, at what appeared to be a community 
washing fest. They thrust their abbreviated ward- 
robes into these water holes all together and with- 
out any confusion succeeded in getting back their 
individual pieces. Further into the town and along 
the roads we met natives selling bananas, oranges, 
cocoanuts, curios and souvenirs of all kinds. We 
bought liberally and upon paying for our first pur- 
chase with American money we were given Haitian 
money in change. The joke of it all was that the 
natives would not accept their own money again in 
payment for another purchase. American money 
was like gold to them, having five times the value of 
their own coin, and many of us came back with a 
hat full of their specie which we sold for junk. 

The houses were built of stone and scantily fur- 
nished. Cafes were barren of fixtures and so defi- 
cient in stock that a platoon of hungry Marines 
easily consumed everything any proprietor had on 
hand. The small market place was a surprise to all 
of us. Camped on an open lot were natives vend- 
ing fruit and vegetables, decidedly over-ripe, tobacco 
and cigarettes strong enough to intoxicate, meat 
that was — well, let's forget it. 

Evening came and recreation was ended. Sixty 

19 



men at a time were loaded in "kickers" (liberty party- 
boats ) and carried back to their ships, all happy, 
singing and swapping experiences with shipmates, 
as the sun went down in grandeur below the distant 
hills. On the following morning the boatswain's 
mate passed word to "Rig Ship for Seas!", later 
came word "Lay Forward All the Chain Cheers!" 
when, at the blast of a bugle, the anchors rose and 
we were off again. 

After thirty hours we made Port-au-Prince, Haiti, 
and all that we saw and did at Culebra was nothing 
compared with our experiences here. Washing 
holes, a larger market place and costumes equally 
as scant presented similar aspects. 

A typical and amusing sight consisted of donkeys 
with loads of hay tied on their backs, covering them 
entirely, upon which were perched husky native men, 
while females, evidently their wives, trudged along 
the hot roads leading the animals. 

It was a festive occasion. The town was in gala 
attire, for the President of Haiti was to review his 
troops. They equalled about a spuadron of cavalry, 
were crack-drilled and gave a splendid account of 
themselves. The natives were out en masse to view 
the parade, and there were many character studies 
among them. Notably was one, a man all dolled up 
in a white crash suit which he evidently had been 
wearing on such occasions from his boyhood days. 
The trousers of his suit reached a bit below his knees 

20 



and lacked about two inches in encompassing his 
waist ; the waist line of the coat was a bit below his 
shoulder blades, the sleeves a trifle below his elbows, 
strings were employed on the front of the coat in an 
attempt to make both ends meet, and a flat-top 
broad-brimmed hat was his crowning piece. 

Our desire for travel and appetite for experience 
was being satisfied by these new and strange scenes 
but they gave way soon to the continuance of target 
practice, which was resumed upon our reaching 
Guantanamo. Here is located the Navy^s famous 
rifle range which is maintained for the practice of 
the annual expeditionary crews. 

The only relaxation during the days we spent in 
practice here was a daily swim in the bay, which, 
however, was compulsory, because each man must 
qualify annually as a swimmer. In order to do so 
one must dive off the forward boom, swim to the 
stem of the ship and return to the gangway, when 
your name is checked off. One of our crew, a husky 
six-footer, weighing about 180 pounds, a windy 
grand-stander, ventured out to the end of the boom. 
As he looked upon the rough briny water his nerve 
and bravado left him. No doubt if a mermaid had 
come to the surface and cried out "Come in, the 
water is fine," he, like any other mere man, would 
have taken a chance. ''Yellow ! Jump, you coward !" 
cried some of the boys lined along the rail. Others 
sang: 

21 



''Mother, may I go out to swim? 

Yes, my darling daughter. 
Hang your clothes on a hickory limb 

But don't go near the water." 

while a naval officer stood at the inboard end to the 
boom determined that the simp should not come 
back ; and he didn't. There he remained, broiling in 
the sun, for over four hours, standing to *'Atten- 
tion" while ''Colors" was sounded, after which he 
was permitted to come aft. 

From Guantanamo Bay we went to Guacanayabo 
Oulf for target practice with big guns and torpedoes. 
When not actually conducting target practice, we 
formed whaleboat crews and went among the many 
islands in the Gulf, which vary in size and elevation. 
The water was so clear that we could see to a depth 
of about twenty feet, and we waded in near the 
shore of the larger islands, reaching below for star- 
fish, coral and other visible interesting aquatic things 
for souvenirs. 

We had grown rusty as to the up-to-the-minute 
news of the world, because all papers were several 
days old when they reached us. We knew, however, 
that our wireless had picked up several distress sig- 
nals from sinking tramp steamers that had been 
submarined by German U-boats in the Carribean 
Sea, and we knew, also, that war clouds hung over 
us and were apt to burst at any time. Every man 
was on the alert and continuous watches were kept 

22 



on the guns, ready for instant action against any at- 
tack that might occur. At last, at 1:13 A. M. April 
6, 1917, our wireless picked up the message that 
America had entered the war, and every mother's 
son in the fleet was eager for action. "Rig Ship for 
Seas !" was the word passed within a few hours, and 
the following day found us back again at Guan- 
tanamo Bay, Cuba. 



23 




CHAPTER III 

Put Across 

HE fleet numbered about one 
hundred ships, and as an imme- 
diate precaution against Ger- 
man submarine attacks, tremen- 
dous nets, fastened to rafts, were 
dropped across the mouth of the 
Bay, while torpedo boats and other 
small craft kept a constant patrol 
beyond. 
Two days later we were steaming towards the 
States, averaging fifteen knots an hour by day and 
thirteen by night. Guns were manned by full crews 
and a wide-awake lookout was maintained contin- 
ually in the tops of military masts. 

Hampton Roads, Virginia, was our destination and 
upon arriving there we found America's great war 
machine ready for action. Discipline became rigid. 
Orders were issued cautioning us to guard our speech 
lest we should give information of value to spies, 
lectures were given at frequent intervals illustrating 
how one might innocently betray his country, and 
a strict censorship was established over all our cor- 
respondence, to prevent any possible leak of our 
plans. 

Three days later we were part of a great line of 
defense established at the mouth of York River. 



25 



Intense training on shore was now essential and a 
portion of every Marine detachment in the fleet was 
ordered to Quantico, Virginia, to be seasoned for 
overseas duty with the Fifth and Sixth Regiments 
of the U. S. Marines. 

Much that we had previously learned had to be 
forgotten for we were now to be drilled as a unit of 
the Army. Advance training, which was most in- 
tensive, was given us in land maneuvering, hiking, 
and trench digging to approximate as nearly as prac- 
ticable the real service which we would have in tho 
American Expeditionary Forces in France. 

Our officers engaged in this work showed great 
ingenuity and efficiency and we were all eager for 
the day to come when we would meet the enemy in 
combat. 

There was no greater incentive to patriotism than 
our frequent trips from Quantico, Va., to Washing- 
ton, D. C, our nation's capital. We, who had lived 
at great distance from the seat of government, were 
greatly impressed by its splendid Federal buildings, 
its departments and their activities. Its many his- 
toric spots and statues, its magnificent piles of mar- 
ble and granite masterpieces of architecture, the 
Capitol, White House, Congressional Library, all 
seemed to be ours by heritage, for it was this and a 
distant spot called "Home" that we were about to 
defend. 

The first expedition of American troops had left 

26 



for France and among them was the Fifth Regiment 
of Marines, which had become temporarily a part of 
the First Division of the Army. The Sixth Regi- 
ment followed at close intervals and every man in 
every section of it that entrained at Quantico, Va., 
for Philadelphia, Pa., from where we embarked for 
France, was jubilant and fired with patriotism. 
Within three hours after our arrival at Philadelphia 
by strenuous labor our stores were aboard and after 
a good night's sleep we mov^d out of the harbor 
into deep sea, and two days later, in company with 
other troop ships, we were picked up by an American 
escort consisting of six destroyers and one cruiser. 

Two of the four groups of transports that had 
preceded us across the Atlantic, carrying among 
other troops the Fifth Regiment of Marines, had 
been attacked by enemy submarines and it was but 
natural to feel uncomfortable at times, but not a 
man showed any nervous symptoms. The morale 
was high for we knew the Navy would get us across. 
Each man, equipped with a life preserver, was as- 
signed to a place on a life boat or raft; "Abandon 
Ship!'' was practiced twice every day, and, on the 
two Sundays included in our fourteen days' trip 
across no scene of greater impressiveness could be 
witnessed than the entire crew assembled on deck 
at church service, bowed in prayer to God for a safe 
landing. 

Eventually we came upon the shores of sunny, 
sorrowing France, bringing hope to our Allies that 
liberty would triumph and that hell would not run 
amuck forever. 

27 




CHAPTER IV 

Near the Front 

T was St. Nazaire . Slowly drift- 
ing through the locks which ex- 
tended into the heart of the 
City, we came to our journey's 
end, where we spent the night 
aboard ship,^ and early the next 
morning took our stores ashore. 

After a hearty lunch we were off 
on a two hour hike to camp, not far 
from the city, where rough huts had been hastily 
erected for us. With straw strewn over the damp 
floors of earth, knapsacks for pillows and sandwiched 
between army blankets, we slept hke tops while the 
bleak winds of November and the cold autumnal 
rains whistled and beat a symphony of joy at our 
coming. 

Here we remained for two weeks, doing guard 
duty, drilling in the mud, and then moved on by 
train to Lormont, a suburb of Bordeaux. We trav- 
eled in freight or cattle cars, and hinky dinky ones 
at that, four wheels, no springs, no heat, no win- 
dows, no seats, no light. Their capacity was eight 
horses, two rows of four abreast, or forty men, 
packed like sardines. The easiest and surest way to 
rest was for all to lie down at once and when we 
wanted to turn over, some one would order "Flop" 

29 



when all backs rolled at once. Thus we traveled, 
huddled together for three nights, and, by day, to 
gain space for moving about inside, we took turns in 
sitting in the doorways, with our feet dangling out, 
viewing the scenery as it shifted. 

It was now December, below zero, but we were a 
sanguine bunch for all of that. yVe had not expected 
a bed of roses, and we knew we were yoked to Vic- 
tory. 

Ere long Christmas dawned again for the entire 
world and ours was especially unique. In the morn- 
ing athletic events were held, running races, tug- 
of-war, foot ball, and catching a greased pig; in the 
afternoon we had a real American Christmas din- 
ner, and at night we took a trip to Bordeaux, just to 
look them over. We observed here and recalled that 
since our arrival in France we were greeted with the 
salutation "Nos Amis," meaning ''our friends." It 
is a rule of pronunciation in the French language 
that when a word ending with a consonant is fol- 
lowed by a word beginning with a vowel the two 
words must be blended, and to our American ears 
this made the word "Amis" of the two words "Nos 
Amis" sound like "Sammies." Perhaps it was our 
misinterpretation that started it as a name for the 
American Expeditionary Forces but it never proved 
to be as popular an appellation among the boys as 
"Yank." 

With headquarters at Lormont, for five weeks we 

30 



went to and from Bassens daily, putting the little 
busy bee to shame, unloading cars of steel, carrying 
rails and ties, and building railroads. Here we 
came in contact with various nationalities doing the 
same work, the most peculiar of whom were the 
Indo-Chinese grotesquely dressed for zero weather in 
quilted printed cloth about an inch thick and wear- 
ing large straw hats which were made in a variety 
of shapes. 

Tough as the pine knots in the railroad ties that 
we had just laid in snow and sleet, we felt out of 
place in the five compartment passenger cars that 
carried us on from Lormont to Damblain, in the 
Bourmont Training Area, but the desire to make us 
feel at home was irresistable so some one chalked 
on the door of each compartment "8 cheveaux (8 
horses)^ '*40 hommes (40 men)." 

We were now about seventy-five miles from the 
front Hnes and hiked, or rather slid, seven kilo- 
meters (about four and a half miles) nearer, over 
ice and sleet, shod in heavy hob-nail shoes that had 
been issued to us at Bordeaux. A little town called 
Blevaincourt was our haven of rest. It was here in 
the Bourmont training area that headquarters for 
the Sixth Regiment of Marines was estabhshed, 
which, like the Fifth Regiment, had spent several 
months performing the necessary but undesired 
duties along the lines of communication. 

With the exception of one company which was on 

31 



duty in England the entire Fourth Brigade of 
Marines was in the Bourmont training area until the 
middle of March, 1918, training industriously as an 
Infantry Brigade of the Second Division. Blevain- 
court had been almost entirely evacuated, the few 
inhabitants remaining being aged men and women, 
toiling hard, and only one cafe and three small gen- 
eral merchandise stores were open. Here we were 
billeted in stable lofts or houses, in groups of from 
ten to a platoon. The houses were built close to- 
gether, bearing labels stating how many men and 
horses they could accommodate. All stables ad- 
joined the houses, and, at breakfast, a horse in his 
stall would neigh in the kitchen door for his morning 
oats. At either or both sides of the front entrances 
to all houses were mounds of stable sweepings, but it 
was not long before American sanitation was inau- 
gurated and they disappeared. 

It was here that we were among the first to receive 
and use the rolling kitchens, and from now on war 
equipment and Army clothing came to outfit us for 
the tremendous tasks ahead. Guard duty was nov/ 
continuous, at which each man had his turn. When 
all was quiet in the early morning hours, while walk- 
ing post, we could hear the faint sound of guns 
booming in the distance telling that a drive was on 
and that ere many moons we too would be in the 
thick of it. 

It was not long before we thoroughly understood 
the intricate mechanism of the one-pounders, which 

32 



fired twenty-six explosive shells in one minute, and 
the three-inch Stoke's Mortar which hurled ten-inch 
shells through the air up to sixteen hundred yards 
distance. Steel helmets weighing two pounds were 
now worn during all drills, and we had learned to 
adjust our gas masks within six seconds after an 
alarm had been sounded. 

After drilling for several weeks in firing trench- 
mortars, one-pounders, machine guns and rifle gre- 
nades, and in throwing hanji grenades, we marched 
to practice trenches about twenty-two kilometers 
away. It was below zero and the only way to keep 
from freezing was to keep moving. We learned the 
theory of trench warfare very quickly and in a short 
time we were ordered to leave the Bourmont train- 
ing area. We loaded our horses and suppHes on 
cars under cover of night and two days later we 
detrained at a small place in the vicinity of Ste. 
Menehould, near the Marne River, which at that 
time was being shelled by the Germans, and we had 
to hop, skip and jump to keep from being hit. Cold, 
hungry and wet, on we marched, hour after hour, 
each man bearing a pack weighing about foi-ty-five 
pounds, consisting of two blankets, a supply of 
underclothes, a pair of trousers, emergency rations of 
hardtack and ''monkey meat" (canned corned beef), 
besides a heavy belt with one hundred rounds of 
ammunition, a canteen, wire cutters, gas mask, hel- 
met and rifle. Yes, and each man had around his 



neck, next to his body, two identification tags one of 
which would mark his grave and the other his body 
if need be. 

Erect, determined, undaunted, the tramp, tramp 
of hobnail shoes brought us nearer and nearer to the 
front, and verily did the inhabitants of the small 
towns we passed through exclaim "Nos Amis!" for 
we were about to begin a job which we felt confident 
of being able to finish. We reached our destination 
at daybreak, where on the side of a hill were some 
bunkhouses formerly occupied by Allied troops, 
which became our quarters for several days. In the 
valley below was a narrow gauge railroad with the 
record of having saved the city of Verdun by being 
the only means of getting food and ammunition to 
the troops. 

It was here we first made the acquaintance of 
man's most clinging companions, ''cooties," which 
were more appropriately named "Arithmetic Bugs," 
by the boys, because they added to our troubles, sub- 
tracted from our pleasures, divided our attention 
and multiplied like — 11. They were well trained, 
always on the offensive, and made successful raids 
on us at any hour. 

Not a day passed here without our witnessing 
Allied and German airplanes in combat several 
thousand feet above. It was gruesome to see them 
tumbling through the air a whirling maze of fire, 
dropping to earth with gasoline tank ablaze, and 
descending with a pilot who had been shot ; but these 

34 



I 



sights were nothing compared to the greater aerial 
battles we later witnessed very much lower, and 
directly over us, at Belleau Wood, near Soissons, St. 
Mihiel , Champagne, Argonne Forest and on the 
Meuse River. 

Weird also was the effect of large shells whizzing 
over our heads from some distant long range Ger- 
man gun, speeding on to do their work of death and 
destruction in some nearby town. But this, too, 
was a mere trifle to what followed. 

From here we moved on to another camp where 
we spent many pleasant and profitable hours fra- 
ternizing with French veterans, each of whom had 
four years of valor and suffering to his credit. 

Poker games have been raided before, but never 
was there such a stampede as happened here. All 
was quiet within a bunkhouse, which was camou- 
flaged as trees. The game progressed. The same 
old bull, the same old bluflf. A full house was — 
'*"Whiz! Bang! — A second of perfect silence. Then 
a voice shouted ''To the dugouts!" What a rush! 
Stumbling, crawling, falling over one another, 
through the kindling wood to which a German shell 
had reduced our hut, we reached the dugouts and 
there for three hours we listened to the "Chimes of 
Death." There were no lives lost, but on the follow- 
ing day another attack by shell fire shattered our 
bunk houses and killed some of our men. Dugouts 
became our sole abode now, until we were ordered 
to the front line trenches. 

35 



CHAPTER V 



A Battle and a Caravan 




ATE at night, through rain and 
mud, we marched to the front 
line trenches, from where, on 
the side of a hill, when the day? 
were clear, we could see the cities of 
Verdun and Metz. This sector was 
so quiet that the French veterans, 
called it a **Rest Camp," neverthe- 
less, extreme caution had to be 
exercised in getting our supplies into the trenches, 
as we were very near the lines. They were trans- 
ferred from our wagon trains by night to small cars, 
stealthily drawn by mules through the town to the 
side of the hill, unloaded and carried into the 
trenches. 

It was a tremendous task rendered doubly diffi- 
cult by darkness and slippery mud, and it was very 
hazardous because of our exposure to shell fire. Our 
lookouts and outposts were established the first night 
and they were constantly at "stand to," on the alert 
for an enemy raid. It came soon enough and with 
it some real excitement. At intervals a snipping 
sound was heard and it was suspected that a Ger- 
man raiding party was at work. Rockets quickly 
fired by our outposts, lookouts, and from our 
trenches, illuminated **No Man's Land" and there 



37 



could be seen crawling towards us, still distant, a 
German wire-cutting party, that had opened a pas- 
sageway through many lines of our barbed wire, and 
behind these crawled a raiding party. As soon as 
they were spotted, up sailed from our side a rocket 
bursting into three stars, which called for our ar- 
tillery barrage. It came instantly, when, as every 
^un belched forth, the earth seemed to tremble for 
miles around and for the second time we heard the 
Chimes of Death ring out. High in the air went 
another rocket. This one burst into six stars, which 
was the signal to our machine gunners for their bar- 
rage. In another second a deadily rain of hot lead 
fell over ''No Man's Land" and in the German lines 
beyond. The odor of gas was scented; two green 
rockets ascended. Klaxons were sounded, and the 
word ''Gas" was passed. In six seconds every man 
had his gas mask on and it seemed as if the lid were 
off Hell with the two barrages roaring and spitting, 
grenades exploding and rifles popping from the 
trenches, while, at the same time, shells were com- 
ing through the air from the German side, striking 
the earth, exploding and throwing rocks, dirt and 
their own fragments in every direction. 

Eternity seemed crowded into this, our first bat- 
tle, which lasted two hours. It was harrowing to 
see a comrade struck dead at your side, but the sight 
of others who, wounded and bleeding, were sticking 
to their post like supermen, while brave iron-nerved 

38 



officers gave and enforced orders, injected courage 
into all of us and we felt that we could endure and 
dare until Doom's Day. Gradually the German fire 
weakened and by daybreak it ceased entirely. Ten- 
derly our stretcher bearers gathered up our wound- 
ed, who were soon cared for at first aid stations or 
sent by ambulance trains to hospitals in rear of the 
lines. Our dead were removed a short distance to 
the rear, and as we could not bury them before sun- 
rise without detection by the enemy and further ex- 
posure to shell fire, we waited to perform this sad 
duty until the following night. In the little time 
that remained before dawn some of us crawled like 
ghouls into "No Man's Land," and gathered up the 
German dead. They were taken to regimental head- 
quarters, back where our hut was destroyed during 
a poker game, thoroughly searched for any papers 
or other articles that would be of value to our intel- 
ligence officers, and then buried in deep holes made 
by their own shell fire. They had literally dug their 
own graves, and as we covered them over with the 
shattered turf we knew, too, that we had begun to 
bury the egoism: 

"Gott pulls mit me, und I mit him, 
Myself— und Gott." 

Hastily in a race with time to do all we could be- 
fore the light of day, we mended our barbed wire, 
repaired all trenches that had been torn by enemy 

39 



shell fire and stored quantities of ammunition within 
reach for instant action. Our muddy beds were a 
luxury and those of us who could mire in them, now 
that day had come, were fortunate, for lookouts 
were as essential by day as by night and it was a 
battle against nature, weary and sleepy, to use the 
periscopes in this duty until relieved, for none dared 
to stick their heads above the parapets. 

It was not long before the Brigade moved to a new 
portion of the sector. We were relieved by a French 
division, which had just returned from hard fighting 
on the Somme Front, and once again our wagon 
trains were loaded. Our destination was unknown 
to us, but buoyantly we marched as some hummed 
and others whistled: * 'Where do we go from here, 
boys, where do we go from here?" It was now 
early Spring and the balmy air and sprouting ver- 
dure were a tonic to us during the several delays of 
this march, which were caused by Germans shelling 
the cross roads ahead of us. Without a scratch and 
in fine fettle we reached the lines which extended 
through the ruins of Haudiamont to a short distance 
from Verdun. Night fighting here was fierce and 
during the day German aeroplanes soared around 
us, dropping bombs and firing machine guns until 
they were chased or bagged by an American or Al- 
lied plane. 

Thirty days were spent here, when, once again 
relieved by French troops, we assembled several kilo- 

40 



meters in the rear, formed into battalions, and with 
real Yankee pep swung down a seemingly never 
ending road. When the command "Fall Out!" was 
given we had reached a small town near Ste. Mene- 
hould where we were glad to stretch on the hard 
floors of the deserted houses. Three hours rest was 
enough for most of us and after breakfast, during 
the little time left, we roamed at will. A water 
trough was discovered, and as^it was our first op- 
portunity in a long while to wash up and shave, we 
worked it overtime. 

The flowers of spring were in bloom and nowhere 
were they more beautiful than in two cemeteries 
here, one for civilians, in which mingled with the 
flowers were wreaths wrought of beads artistic in 
design and color, and, in the other for the soldier 
dead, were rare tokens of remembrance and love 
made and placed among the flowers by their com- 
rades in the war. Scenes of beauty were viewed 
everywhere here from hilltops and from the bridge 
crossing the Marne Canal, in striking and appre- 
ciative contrast to the desolation and destruction 
that we had beheld elsewhere. 

In the afternoon we were on the march again, 
until nine o'clock at night when we pitched camp on 
a roadside and after an early breakfast the next 
morning we were off again. The temperature had 
risen gradually to an oppressive degree, causing 
many heat prostrations among us, although there 

41 



was always an interval of ten minutes rest to each 
fifty minutes of marching. We passed through 
many villages and along the roadside we could see 
old women and children working in the fields. At 
the end of a torrid day we entered the city of Vitry 
le Francois, where we were welcomed by many pretty 
French girls who waved their handkerchiefs and 
threw flowers at us. As long as these chic, smiling, 
gesticulating maidens were around heat prostrations 
increased one hundred percent and there was many 
a faked "Fall Out!" before the real command was 
given. 

We had come here for open warfare training but 
within a week it was found that this area was un- 
suited for our purpose. We, therefore, entrained 
at Vitry le Francois for Pentoise from where two 
more days of marching over hills, through dales of 
blooming poppies, parboiling and bronzing in the 
sun with an occasional chance to soak our burning, 
aching, blistered feet in cooling streams, brought us 
to a training area around Gisors, Chaumont en 
Vixen, northwest of Paris. It was while we were in 
this area in reserve near Montdidier, that orders 
were received for the Second Division to hasten to 
the Chateau Thierry sector to render assistance to 
the Allies in stopping the most dangerous of the 
German drives. They had launched their third of- 
fensive, west of Rheims, crossed the Chemin des 
Dames, captured Soissons and were marching in the 

42 



direction of Paris down the Mame Valley. A crisis 
had been reached and quick action was required. 
We were prepared for another move and instead of 
hiking, French trucks came to carry us on. Eighteen 
men and their equipment was the capacity of each 
truck and when they were filled with the Second 
Division, including the Marine Brigade, and set out 
one abreast, the wagon trains loaded with supplies 
following, it made one of the world's greatest cara- 
vans — sixteen miles in length. -One thing is sure, 
no Crusaders ever ventured or accomplished more. 



48 




CHAPTER VI 

At Belleau Woods 

VER the turf we motored as the 
balmy breezes and golden sun- 
beams kissed the rippling folds 
of Old Glory and what a won- 
derful sight it was when we were 
on the summit of a hill to look in 
either direction ^down upon distant 
valleys and other hills over which 
this incomparable caravan was 
speeding. Observation balloons hovered over us and 
we passed many groups of anti-aircraft guns, used 
as a line of defense against German night raids on 
Paris, which city we could now plainly see in the dis- 
tance as we were running parallel to it. After a 
while we turned away from Paris into what was 
called the Paris-Metz road, which was a busy route 
for moving armies and supplies. 

Every hour and a half in our course we rested for 
fifteen minutes, so that we could get out and stretch 
ourselves, and about twilight we entered the city of 
Meaux, where we first saw refugees. Our stop here 
was short and we were soon rolling again in the 
direction of far distant Metz. We knew our desti- 
nation was the Chateau-Thierry region and the 
nearer we came to it the more refugees we passed, 
poor homeless creatures, all of whom were either old 

45 



men and women or helpless children, carrying all 
that was left of their earthly possessions. Most of 
them bore heavy bundles, some pushed wheelbarrows 
or hand-carts, and a few who had saved their cows 
eased their burden by tying their belongings to the 
animals' backs so that they could help some less for- 
tunate soul to get on. Not far from the roadside was 
a canal. We could see boats upon it, some of which 
were drawn by horses too old to be drafted, others 
by French tanks and all of them were loaded with 
hungry, frightened, pitiful refugees. None of the 
scenes of ruin and desolation we had beheld since our 
entry into France impressed us like the suffering 
inflicted upon these defenseless, homeless beings. 
Every American felt his fighting blood boil at sight 
of such frightfulness and the spirit of Lafayette 
must have heard our resolve to halt the German 
hordes in their determined drive on Paris. 

Miles melted,, distance faded, and ere long we were 
near the French line of defense that was waiting for 
the German blow. We alighted from our trucks at 
Montreuil-aux-Lions near Chateau-Thierry, from 
where they were hurried back to pick up the thou- 
sands of refugees along the road and carry them to 
a safety zone, in the rear, for food and shelter. We 
were asleep here for the night on the side of a hill, 
along the road, when we were ordered to reroll our 
packs and march further on, about five kilometers, 
to a place called White Farm. Some of us slept here 

46 



in barn lofts and others in the woods nearby, while 
our officers remained up planning the best way to 
form a line against the German drive on Paris. 

About daybreak we marched back to Montreuil- 
aux-Lions where, under cover of deserted homes, we 
fed and rested until nightfall, when every man was 
ready to move to the front lines. As we marched to 
the lines we passed by tons of shells and hundreds of 
cans of powder that had been piled in the fields, 
camouflaged as stacks of wheat or as clusters of full 
grown weeds to prevent German airplanes from 
dropping bombs upon them, and every little clump of 
bushes concealed a number of guns. Avoiding the 
roads we marched through fields and woods until we 
were right behind a French division with our guns 
all set for action. When word was passed to them 
that our artillery support was ready, they picked up 
their guns, grenades and all accoutrements and fell 
back. We were then the front line defense. 

In the dim haze of the day now dawning our look- 
outs spotted moving lines of Germans. They had 
formed in Belleau Wood about five hundred yards in 
front of us, marched in squad formation for a dis- 
tance and then came with a rush towards us. The 
battle was on! Each marine had his rifle to his 
shoulder, popping away with careful aim,, always at 
some selected German and when he pulled his trig- 
ger his man dropped. Nothing could have surpassed 
the accuracy of our rifle fire. The effect was like a 

47 



bowling tournament in which men fell over like ten 
pins, and when our artillery support opened up they, 
too, delivered the goods C. 0. D. irrespective of name 
or address. 

The advancing German lines became thinner under 
our expert fire and when all that remained of them 
dropped to the ground we knew they had been 
stopped. We continued firing, however, and made 
it so hot for them that they got up and ran back to 
the woods, but scores of them never reached there 
and it can be truly said that many a German was 
shot in the back. 

Having no further reason to shoot our rifle fire 
weakened, but shells from our big guns continued to 
whiz over our heads and drop in the German lines, 
in Belleau Wood beyond, for we thought they would 
make another attempt to get through — and they did. 
Later in the evening they failed in a second advance 
and their dead piled up as we again drove them 
back into the woods. 

Night brought with it an opportunity for our 
ration details to find our ration dumps on the cross- 
roads and in nearby ravines, and thus relieve us of 
hunger, but to sleep in our holes was impossible. By 
dawn our wounded had been cared for and every 
man was fresh and wide awake when word was 
passed by our lookouts that the Germans were get- 
ting ready to come over. 

For five days and nights now we were up against 

48 



it. On the first day we were pelted with a mild ar- 
tillery fire; on the second the Germans opened up 
their artillery on us with full force, and after hun- 
dreds of shells were dropped on our side, they came 
over twice but each time they went back paying a 
heavy toll in dead and wounded. The third, fourth 
and fifth days brought increased firing, gas shells, 
high explosives and air bursting shrapnel. Our dead 
and wounded increased in numbers. Our ration de- 
tails were being killed at night while trying to get 
food and water to the men in the front lines; our 
ration dumps were being blown up ; our first aid sta- 
tions were being shelled; snipers were doing their 
deadly work and big guns were pounding away to 
destroy our line of defense — but we held on, fought 
on, dared on, through the sixth restless day and 
night, when we were told that on the next morning 
we were to go over the top. 

The zero hour for our artillery barrage was four 
A. M. It opened up promptly and in the next three 
hours nearly twenty thousand shells of all sizes 
rained upon the Germans in the woods and ravines 
beyond. At fifteen minutes of seven, during this 
terrific fire, word was passed that the zero hour for 
us to go over the top was seven o'clock. To describe 
the quick and careful Reparation during the next 
fifteen minutes when each man inspected his rifie, 
gas mask and combat pack, adjusted his ammuni- 
tion belt and bandiliers, looked after his emergency 

49 



rations, rifle bayonet, Colt's automatic and hand 
grenade is simple enough ; but who can fathom our 
minds and souls and adequately describe our 
thoughts and feelings during this quarter of an 
hour — the last for many of us. 

There was a tenderness each felt for the other and 
an indescribable suppressed emotion that was neither 
fear, doubt nor regret. While the thoughts we 
breathed vibrated through space and while our men- 
tal radios of love were being wafted back to home, 
promptly at the zero hour of seven a whistle was 
blown and an officer shouted "Up and at 'em !" Leap- 
ing from our holes we formed into skirmish lines and 
as we started to advance our artillery barrage raised 
and changed to a creeping one. 

A heavy German artillery barrage was trained 
upon us from the woods and we now literally entered 
into the mouth of hell. Bullets from machine guns 
popped around our heads and feet and shells fell 
about us, throwing dirt in our eyes, as we stumbled 
over the bodies of dead Germans, killed by us in their 
attempts during the past five days to break through 
our lines. 

Comrades fell around us never to rise again. 
Brave boys struck down,, bandaged their own wounds 
and fought on while those too weak to rise called for 
first aid. Wave upon wave we advanced, and finally 
reached the edge of the woods where we had a close 
fight with the Germans, which lasted until noon, when 

.50 



we established our positions. Later the Germans 
made a counter attack for nearly two hours, but we 
held our ground,, lost fewer men than they did and 
captured many prisoners who were big hardened 
warriors, the pick of the Crown Prince's troops, all 
of whom were greatly amazed to know that they 
were fighting Americans. 

As night descended, our ration and water details 
started on their perilous duty of getting food and 
drink to the men in front. Our stretcher bearers 
removed the wounded, our dead were cared for, am- 
munition dumps were distributed along the front 
line, the dead and wounded were replaced by re- 
serves and we awaited the coming of the zero hour 
of seven A. M. when we were up and **at 'em" again 
with a yell. Just as before our artillery support 
started a barrage. Trees were uprooted ; the woods 
were denuded; it seemed impossible for anyone to 
live through it, but, as we clashed onward we found 
many German riflemen, machine gunners and artil- 
lerymen still on the job, and they gave us hell for 
fair. "Teufel hunden!" (Devil Dogs) they called us, 
and they named us well, for with leaps and bounds 
like a kennel of unleashed satanic hydrophobic 
thoroughbreds we were "at 'em" tooth and nail, hair 
and hide. Bullets, shell and shrapnel filled the air. 
Shot after shot deliberately aimed at human targets 
registered again and again. We pushed on, captured 
Hill 142 and Bouresches and sturdily held our ground 
against the enemy's best guard divisions. There was 
a wheat field through which we passed on our way to 
Bouresches. The wheat was about waist high, 
young, tender and green and intermingled with it 
were thousands of radiant poppies. It seemed to 

51 



illustrate the perpetuity of life and nature that men 
should die among this resurrecting herbage. 

Twice we were halted in our advance on Bou- 
resches by a German machine gun nest situated on a 
hill and screened by huge boulders, seemingly as im- 
pregnable as Gibraltar. Finally our artillery was 
ordered to fall back a short distance and throw a 
barrage on it. After registering and opening all our 
guns, it was soon smashed to smithereens and not a 
live German or insect crawled in its crevices. The 
Germans had a quantity of ammunition stored at 
Bouresches and rather than have it fall into our 
hands with the city from which they were now flee- 
ing, they set fire to both. 

Belleau Wood and Bouresches were ours, and it 
has been said officially that in all the history of the 
U. S. Marine Corps there is no record of such battles, 
when, without relief or sleep, and frequently for 
forty-eight hours without food or water, officers and 
men both tenaciously clung as their lines were 
thinned, making the supreme sacrifice true to the 
motto of their corps ''Semper Fidelis" — ("Always 
Faithful.") 



SllSffl 




62 



CHAPTER VII 




SOISSONS 

UR line of communication was 
by a ravine which ran along the 
edge of Belleau Wood from 
what was known as Triangle 
Farm, in the valley of Lucy, to 
where we ha'd our regimental aid 
station ; and over this ravine was a 
culvert which was used as our first 
aid station. Our wounded were 
carried in Ford ambulances from the culvert to the 
aid station, and so many of them were blown off the 
road into the ravine by German shells that it was. 
called "Dead Man's Gulch" by the Marines. 

Neither had our regimental aid station been spared! 
by German shell fire in the recent battles, nor was 
there any more daring deed performed during them 
than when one morning just at dawn a runner, 
nearly exhausted, found his way to our regimental 
headquarters about three kilometers away. He 
brought the message that our regimental aid station 
had been blown up by German shell fire, that many 
patients had been killed and that all the doctoin^. Red 
Cross men and wounded who had been removed for 
safety to the cellar were buried in the ruins. Volun- 
teers were called for and a rescue party, defying 
death and danger, was off to dig them out. On 



53 



their way a German seventy-seven came over and 
dropped in a pond nearby, exploding and sending a 
geyser into the air about one hundred feet high. In 
the misty morning light, not having seen the ascent 
of the water, it was easy enough when they came 
upon it in its descent, which encompassed their path, 
to imagine that a cloud had burst over them, — ^but a 
little thing like this could not stop a willing rescue 
party. 

Airplane activity increased and as we lay in our 
holes by day, German planes would swoop down close 
above us while we dodged their aerial bombs and 
machine gun fire. By night there were air raids on 
Meaux, and for miles around we could see airplanes 
spotted out against the sky as searchlights followed 
them, aiding the allied anti-aircraft guns to bring 
them down to earth. 

It was now near the end of June, and as a reward 
for our recent victory a limited number of men from 
each company were taken to Paris for a Fourth of 
July parade. Many of our wounded had been sent 
to hospitals at Paris regularly for months and after 
we reached there about the first thing each man did 
was to look up some less fortunate buddy with whom 
he had been upon the brink of the Great Beyond. 
We found them all cheerful, hopeful, impatient for 
action and envious of the dangers still ahead. 

Then came a tour of Paris with the joy o± laugh- 
ter, the luxury of rest and the thrill of applause. 

54< 



We explored every street, avenue and place, viewed 
the theaters, historic buildings, bridges and statues, 
while everywhere we roamed Parisienne maidens ex- 
claimed "ou la la sweet Papa!" "Voulez vous pro- 
menade avec moi?" and we had acquired enough 
French to respond "Certainement avec plaisir ma 
chere mademoiselle." Then came the great Fourth 
of July parade in Paris when we Marines, among 
other veterans of numerous battles, many of us less 
than the prescribed age of manhood, felt goose flesh 
crawl over us as flowers were strewn in our path 
while we marched to the national airs of our Allies, 
and our own ''Star Spangled Banner," mid the lusty 
vives of a grateful populace. But our work of war- 
fare had not ended. In a short while we were re- 
turned to our companies, where we joined a resigned 
and stoical detail which had been picked from those 
left behind, while we were in Paris, and we were 
ordered to the lines with them as a salvage party. 

Groping through the dark and stumbling over the 
dead as we worked, we passed White Farm, regi- 
mental headquarters, and the battered ruins of Lucy. 
We entered the old ravine near the first aid station 
under the culvert and trailed through Dead Man's 
Gulch, towards the lines, removing good equipment 
from the dead and picking up all that had been 
dropped by the wounded. We were stopped many 
times and were turned away from our course as 
shells were fired by the Germans in their receded 

55 



positions, and frequently we had to lie down with 
the dead to save ourselves. In order to get through 
in some places we were compelled to climb over piles 
of shattered trees that had fallen in the destruction 
of the woods and our only guide to a safe exit be- 
fore daylight was the incessant booming of one of 
our guns, the direction of which we knew would lead 
us out. 

About the end of the first week in July we were 
relieved by the Twenty-Sixth Division. We marched 
to another woods about fifteen kilometers to the 
rear of our lines, not far from the Marne River, 
where we were held in reserve in case the Germans 
attempted to break through again. After several 
days here we moved from woods to woods to keep the 
Germans from registering their long range guns on 
us, and about the middle of the month we marched 
back to where that wonderful caravan had landed 
us previous to the memorable Battle of Belleau 
Wood, but many a splendid, brave, big-hearted boy 
was missing. 

A thrust towards Soissons, the vast offensive 
known as the Aisne-Mame, had been planned and we 
were soon rushed from here to the "Jump Off." 
After thirty-six hours of scorching the road and 
burning the air our motor trucks were brought to a 
stop and we debussed on the edge of the Bois-de- 
Retz, through which we hiked to the Soissons front. 

The place of honor in this thrust was given to our 

56 



First and Second Divisions, with the First French 
Moroccan Division between us, and together we 
moved through the forest in the inky darkness of 
night, rain and mud, being compelled to march double 
file, touching one another all the while to avoid 
being separated. We reached the lines on the morn- 
ing of July 18, 1918, and just a few minutes after 
taking our positions a battery of French seventy- 
fives slowly tolled the hour: 'Bang! Bang! Bang! 
Bang! — Four o'clock. It was the appointed time 
and signaled that the battle was on. 

Although fagged and nearly famished from forty- 
eight hours of movement, we, with the other two 
divisions, were employed as the spearhead of the 
main attack and jumped into the fray without rest 
or food. For three hours now every gun blazed 
away and one of the heaviest artillery preparations 
that the Germans ever faced spread terror to their 
souls, at the end of which (7 A. M.) the zero hour 
for our going over the top had been reached. We 
met with very little resistance until we came upon 
their fourth line and then they gave us merry hell 
with their machine guns. However, by continually 
pounding and gradually moving forward we forced 
them back. 

During this counter-offensive, the Sixth Regiment, 
for a while occupied, all alone, the positions held on a 
previous day by three regiments, and a battalion of 
reserves was sent to the Fifth as replacements. 

57 



They were of the same virile, sturdy type, and to- 
gether, in skirmish formation, we pushed on carry- 
ing our lines over a hill to the right and extending 
them far into a wheatfield, while the Germans 
heaved hot lead upon us from their positions in a 
woods about six hundred yards away. Progress 
through the wheat was so difficult and slow that 
French tanks opened up a path for us, which brought 
on a terrific fire of high explosive shells and airplane 
attacks from the German side. 

Through the wheatfield and across a road brought 
us into a field of stubble oats, and, although we were 
now exposed full height to a deadly fire, there was no 
faltering, no retreating. Almost exhausted our thin 
frayed lines reached the edge of the woods and at 
close range we put the enemy to rout. Our loss had 
been heavy and the task to hold our wide front was 
a dangerous one, but to magnify our number we dug 
holes and placed in each one of them a figure formed 
of a coat stuffed with a blanket and camouflaged as a 
crouching soldier, upon which German aviators 
wasted many bombs. 

We were now so close upon the Germans that they 
could not remove tons of powder and thousands of 
shells they had stored in the valley below the woods, 
and rather than leave them to us they set fire to 
them, illuminating the heavens for miles around. 
Our advance was so rapid that at the end of the 
second day the Second Division had taken Beaure- 

58 



paire Farm and Vierzy and reached a position in 
front of Tigny. 

We had driven the enemy over several hills and 
fields before taking the town of Vierzy, which lay 
in a valley surrounded by almost perpendicular hills. 
In the hill, along the side of the town against which 
we were fighting, were several wine caves, into one 
of which we trapped and took twelve hundred pris- 
oners and from another cave^ four Germans killed 
many of our men with a machine gun they had lo- 
cated within it, but realizing that they were caught 
they came out and surrendered. Brigade headquar- 
ters was established in a cave at Vierzy and we 
built positions for further defense. 

In the victory thus achieved, which has been con- 
ceded to be the decisive battle of the war, we ad- 
vanced over six miles, captured over three thousand 
prisoners, 66 field guns, and tons of supplies, while 
the enemy crossed swiftly to the north bank of the 
Mame and beat it to the Vesle. There were many 
miraculous escapes from death during these two 
days of human slaughter when the lobe of an ear or 
the hair on one's head was scorched by a speeding 
bullet. There were also many premonitions of death 
among the boys and the last words of the most fear- 
less types of American manhood were invariably of 
home and mother, coupled with the pride of passing 
out in the uniform of their country. 

A runner brought a message that we were to be 
relieved by a French Division among which were 

59 



Algerian troops and in a short while we were min- 
gling with them. Before we moved out the Alger- 
ians gave us their only mascot, Dodo, a genuine 
African monkey that had been through every battle 
with them, and his antics contributed many a happy 
hour to the arduous days and nights that followed. 
He was a Simian Militarist to the tip of his tail. 
The sight of a person not in uniform would throw 
him into a rage and whenever civilians appeared 
they were in danger of being routed. We were 
marching soon again back through the wheatfield 
and down the steep hill into Vierzy, hungry, thirsty, 
and sleepy, but the French hardtack and water ob- 
tained here, plus American grit, helped us to plod 
along three miles farther where, after a meal of hot 
soup, the first in five days, we slept like babes in the 
woods. 

Salvage and burial details were sent out during 
the following days and it was far from being a 
pleasant or cheering task to gather and bury our 
comrades of yesterday, less fortunate, though bet- 
ter and braver, no doubt, than we who had survived 
the Battle of Soissons. 



60 



CHAPTER VIII 



Between Battles 




E HAD now countermarched to 
the woods close to where the 
German front lines were located 
at the beginning of our recent 
offensive and after entering it we 
discovered that hundreds of shells 
sent over to the enemy by us at that 
time had exploded in a great num- 
ber of tree tops, leaving quantities 
of huge limbs shattered ready to fall at the least dis- 
turbance and, also, that shells of all sizes were hang- 
ing in many trees where they had stopped in their 
propulsion. Safety first prompted us to move out of 
the woods, which was not accomplished, unfortunate- 
ly, before many were killed by limbs falling from 
trees or by shells loosening and crashing down upon 
them. This seemed to us like the limit of perversity 
when men who had come through terrific battles 
without a scratch and who were now nearing victory, 
should finally meet their end in so defenseless a way. 
These, therefore, were not the restful days we had 
expected but the hot meals prepared in our field 
kitchens then and devoured by us regularly were life 
savers. On the night before leaving here, while each 
man was settled in a dog tent with his bunkie, a large 
shell sailed into our midst, exploded, killing and 

61 



wounding several. This was followed by a second 
shell, when we scooted for our lives to the nearby- 
trenches and shell holes, making ourselves cozy in 
them for the rest of the night. On the morrow, after 
breakfast, we rolled our packs and marched on to 
Taillefontaine, pitching and striking camp twice 
on our way. 

Here we rested for two days and bade "Au revoir" 
to those of our comrades who had been wounded at 
Soissons. They were now transferred to hospitals 
and there were many among them who felt the pain 
of parting and the sting of inaction far greater than 
their wounds. 

A continuance of hot meals with the added luxury 
of sleeping on wooden bunks, covered with straw, 
injected pep into us, and our six hours march from 
here to Nanteuil, which became the Brigade's head- 
quarters for about a week, was a mere nothing. We 
were billeted in an area around Nanteuil-le-Hau- 
douin and during this brief period of rest we en- 
joyed the aerial stunts performed daily by students 
of a nearby French aviation school. Luck seemed to 
be with us now, for a while at least, and instead of 
marching from here we boarded small box cars for 
a twenty-four hour journey to an area around 
Nancy, where we remained for about ten days, rest- 
ing and refitting. 

These were lazy days for us and we made the most 
of them by enjoying liberty in the city of Nancy, 

62 



where we viewed and studied the destruction done 
to it by German air raids, by swimming daily or by 
playing hookey otherwise from the death mill. Move- 
ment was started soon for the occupation of the Mar- 
bache subsector, near Pont-a-Mousson on the Mo- 
selle River, and after a two days' march, head- 
quarters was established at Scarponne,, just across 
the Moselle River from Dieulouard, bringing us once 
again within range of the big^ German guns. There 
is a fine church at Dieulouard within which there oc- 
curred a miracle of the war. During one of the 
many German air raids by night two bombs were 
dropped over it. They were about three feet long, 
we^'ghed approximately one hundred pounds each 
and when they crashed through the roof, striking the 
hard stone floor beneath, they did no damage other 
than cracking their own casings. They are now 
fastened to two opposite columns in the church and 
adjoining tablets have all the details inscribed upon 
them. 

After relieving the French troops, who had been 
holding this sector, we were raided for four success- 
ive nights by the Germans, but we had very few 
casualties, while "No Man's Land" had many enemy 
dead strewn over it and we bagged many prisoners. 
There were no more raids from the German side for 
nearly a week when we were relieved by the Eighty- 
second Division. We had suffered very heavy casual- 
ties during our recent offensives, in fact, in one com- 

63 



pany but eighteen men remained of the original com- 
plement. Our replacements were of a texture fit to 
retain our record but being raw they had to be 
trained, so, after three days' march we entered an 
area about twenty kilometers southeast of Toul, 
with headquarters at Favieres, where we underwent 
intensive training for the impending St. Mihiel 
offensive. 



64 




CHAPTER IX 
St. Mihiel 

N oft repeated tale is undenia- 
bly monotonous, but there 
seems to be so much harmony 
between the cold rain, sighing 
winds, slippery, slimy mud and a 
hike that ends with the beginning 
of a battle that we must once again 
refer to a coincidence that had fre- 
quently been ours. So, after an- 
other fatiguing march of several nights, soaked to 
the bone by the unrelenting rain, splashed from 
head to feet with the sticky quagmire of the Old 
World but with spirit and ardor undampened, we 
were once again at the front. It was the eve of the 
St. Mihiel offensive and we were all set to fight as a 
unit of the Second Division of the First Corps of the 
First Army. 

Just at one o'clock on the following morning a 
broadside from our immense naval guns, manned 
by American sailors, opened up. All our artillery 
cut loose in one terrific bombardment and then the 
hoary vapor of early morning changed to the lurid 
hue of lightning. During this tremendous barrage 
and aided by its ghastly reflection, our wire cutting 
parties were at work opening a way in the entangle- 
ments for our men to pass through and we who were 

65 



crowded in the trenches were waiting restlessly for 
the zero hour. Finally, when **Go get 'em!" was 
shouted we formed into squads and passed through 
the holes our men had cut for us, sifting through 
the deep rows of wire entanglements until we were 
on top of the German front lines. We deployed, ad- 
vanced double time and got through their first, sec- 
ond and third line of trenches easily, but we had a 
hard fight to gain their fourth one. 

We were engaged for several days in the vicinity 
of Remenauville, Thiaucourt, Xammes and Jaulny 
and our advance was so rapid that by nine o'clock 
on the first morning of the drive we had not only 
penetrated the German artillery positions, but had 
also stormed and captured several pill boxes. These 
were strong fortifications built of concrete with walls 
about two feet thick ranging in size from about five 
to twenty feet square. They were about five feet 
underground with about two feet extending above 
the surface, were well camouflaged and the larger 
ones were designed for four or more compartments. 
We also came upon many large dugouts, some of 
them fifty feet underground, into which we entered 
with great caution. We were meeting with practi- 
cally no resistance as we drove on and could see the 
Germans fleeing over hilltops at least a mile away, 
but occasional bullets sent by enemy snipers fell 
among us too often with fatal results. Into swamps, 
wading through mud knee deep, we wiped out gun 

66 



nests while one buddie baled out water with his hel- 
met so the other could dig in and snipe. We con- 
tinued our advance through woods after woods, and, 
when we were again in the open we came upon a 
German supply train that had been fired on by our 
aviators as it was fleeing. All of its horses and most 
of its men were either dead or wounded. 

We had swept everything before us so completely, 
had captured prisoners, cannon and other military 
material, and had made such rapid headway that we 
were close upon our objective in little over half the 
time we had expected. 

As we swept through the streets of Thiaucourt the 
inhabitants waved and cheered from their doorways 
and windows in ecstatic joy at our coming, for they 
had practically been prisoners since the beginning 
of the war. A typical old French mother, whose 
furrowed face, crowned with gray disheveled hair 
bespoke great suffering and sacrifice, sought us and 
told our officers that when the Germans heard the 
American Marines were coming they despaired of 
their lives. She said she had induced a number of 
them to hide in a nearby cave and led us to them. 
"Kameradl Kamerad!" shouted in guttural tones 
was their piteous cry when we surrounded them, 
and, like humane Yanks, we led the two hundred or 
more of them back to the stockades as prisoners to 
join other hundreds of their crest-fallen kith and kin. 
The morale of the German army was now at so low 

67 



an ebb that we had no trouble in capturing a train 
load of supplies and men. It seemed like taking 
candy from a kid up to this point, when suddenly 
large shells from the enemy rained upon us, which 
materially increased the few losses we had sustained 
up to now. They struck our field kitchens with un- 
usual precision and we discovered the cause to be 
that aim was directed by a German officer secreted 
in a church steeple, who was using the hands of its 
clock for signaling to his gunners. 

Another cause of direct hits was found to be a 
mirror about twelve by nine feet placed in the top of 
a tree on a hill. By looking into this mirror with 
field glasses the enemy could see our operations, but 
only a few bullets from our well aimed rifles were 
required to shatter it. 

These were four days of successful operations 
against the enemy, during which our replacements 
fought and endured equal to their more seasoned 
brothers-in-arms, resulting in a grand victory for 
the American forces. 

Within a week the brigade moved to the area 
south of Toul with headquarters at Chaudenay. 



68 




CHAPTER X 

The Last Shot 

N accomplishing this move we 
countermarched over most of 
the ground covered in our last 
advance. Our longest stop was 
Manonville where we camped for 
about a week and then hiked to 
Foug, where nearly all the women 
and girls were employed in a steel 
plant turning out shells for large 
guns. 
The four days we spent here were busy ones for 
the few photographic galleries that were still able 
to conduct business, when most of us groomed up to 
have our pictures taken for the folks back home, but, 
as cute as some looked, before long every "soldier 
doll" among us was once again covered with the dust 
of the roads and the mud of the swamps. We re- 
mained in the vicinity of Toul for nearly a week, 
from where we moved by rail to an area south of 
Chalons-sur-Marne with headquarters at Sarry. 
Here we were billeted for a few days with orders not 
to go out of calling distance, and then moved, partly 
by bus and by marching, to the Souain-Suippes area 
with brigade headquarters at Suippes. 

In the meantime it had been planned to break 

69 



through the powerful German defenses in the Cham- 
pagne. The Second Division, including the Marine 
Brigade, was temporarily placed at the disposal of 
the Fourth French Army to assist in this great pro- 
posed offensive and, accordingly, we marched to the 
front line near Somme-Py, with headquarters in the 
trenches about two and a half kilometers to the 
south. 

The hour to move forward came. There was the 
usual preliminary barrages, and, with a whoop, we 
were over the top. A German sniper who had been 
getting in his work upon us since daybreak from a 
hole about two hundred yards away, was located and 
rounded up in our advance. He had killed and 
wounded several marines, which was bad enough, 
but when he fired upon and killed a French Red 
Cross man, unarmed, he was surrounded, dragged 
from the hole, bound to the wire entanglements and 
a volley of hot lead registered his last intolerable act. 

We advanced rapidly to storm and seize the power- 
fully fortified heights of Blanc Mont, passing over 
the bodies of French soldiers who had fallen in a 
similar attempt during the last five days. In 1914 
over a million lives were lost in this vicinity and dur- 
ing the four years of fighting to date the French had 
held Blanc Mont Ridge for only fifteen minutes, the 
Germans regaining it in a counterattack, so it was 
now up to the Americans to do the job. The battle 
began at seven o'clock and at eleven we had full pos- 

70 



session of the ridge with but comparatively few cas- 
ualties on our side. At the top, howevA^ an exciting 
hand-to-hand fight took place, when we came upon 
a mass of Germans in a trench. It was of the tra- 
ditional Marine variety in which pistols, grenades 
and bayonets were used freely, and resulted in our 
bagging a number of prisoners. After cleaning up 
this trench and several camouflaged dugouts, we 
started down the opposite side of the ridge. 

As we neared the bottom of it the Germans at- 
tacked us from strong positions they still held, and 
for a while we were blinded by the dirt plowed up 
by their machine gun fire. Our loss was heavy but 
we stormed their positions and captured many pris- 
oners, considerable ammunition and several supply 
dugouts. We crossed a valley and advanced up an- 
other hillside, over bodies of the dead, and through 
a small woods that led to an open field. 

As we were crossing here in skirmish line a great 
explosion occurred, a land mine was sprung beneath 
us. Dirt, rocks, limbs of trees and human bodies, 
both whole and dismembered, ascended to uncal- 
culable height, not falling to the earth again for sev- 
eral minutes. The concussion was so great that men 
within the radius of half a mile were knocked down, 
and it is estimated that at least a ton of powder was 
used in this death trap, which left a hole of unusual 
depth extending over an area of approximately one 
hundred by fifty feet. We passed on from this 

71 



scene and stopped a short distance beyond for the 
night, while our artillery worked and prepared posi- 
tions for further attack the next day. What fol- 
lowed seemed easy until we were before the village 
of St. Etienne, when the Germans, having received 
replacements, made it hot for us. By attacking 
savagely we held the ground we had gained and de- 
stroyed the enemy forces confronting us. 

The success of this great offensive was due largely 
to the military genius of Major General John A. 
Lejeune of the Marines, during which the wooded 
hill of Blanc Mont was stormed and held, St. Etienne 
taken and when the Germans were forced to fall back 
before Rheims, thereby yielding the positions they 
had held for four years. 

We were relieved by the Seventy-sixth Division 
and while going to the rear we gathered up and 
buried our dead comrades. We countermarched 
through the field where in our recent advance the 
mine crater had wrought such havoc to our men, 
picking our way on boards that had been laid over 
the gaping surface rather than change our course 
and perhaps pass over another inferno. 

Brigade headquarers was soon established once 
again at Suippes and we were assigned as Fourth 
French Army Reserves. We remained in this vicin- 
ity for a few days, resting and refitting, when we 
marched to the area north of Chalons-sur-Marne 
with headquarters at Bouy. While here we were 

72 



placed provisionally at the disposal of the Ninth 
French Army Corps, temporarily detached from the 
Second Division, and marched to another area. In 
obedience to orders we next hiked to the vicinity of 
Leffincourt and when about to take over the sector 
assigned to us we received orders to rejoin the Sec- 
ond Division, which was preparing to enter the 
Meuse-Argonne offensive. 

Then followed a long hard march over mountains, 
facing cutting winds and often sleeping wet and cold 
in rat-infested barracks that had percolating roofs. 
Our only diversions during this march were when we 
came upon some American negro troops who had 
been removing German shells from the battlefields of 
1914. They were just emerging from an old dugout 
where they had found a piano. The impulse to jazz 
or rag a Dixie melody had been irresistable and when 
one of them struck a cord upon the keyboard there 
had followed a terrific explosion, killing several of 
them, and, also, when a German airplane was shot 
down by our artillery. The aviator kept his finger 
on his machine gun as he dropped head first, shoot- 
ing all the while into our ranks, killing and wound- 
ing over sixty men. Although disabled this daring 
ace landed his machine right side up and when he 
started to run it is needless to say he had taken his 
last flight. 

Eventually we arrived in the area south of Exer- 
mont where we bivouacked until we moved forward 

73 



into line to participate in the Meuse-Argonne offen- 
sive, relieving elements of the Forty-second Division, 
just south of Londres-et-St. Georges. 

Hallowe'en, associated in our minds with goblins 
and spooks, had barely merged its mystic shadows 
into the dawn of another day and month when we 
sent over a terrific artillery barrage that lasted for 
six hours. Then came a machine gun barrage, the 
zero hour, and, quick as a flash we had rushed on 
about a kilometer through the barbed wire while 
rockets lit our way. It was here we fought one of 
our hardest battles with terrific loss, but we broke 
through the lines. In our advance we found a dug- 
out plenteously stored with black bread and honey, 
and having been human orchids for so long, feeding 
on the air, we fell upon it like ravenous wolves, 
cleaning up every crumb of the bread and licking 
our fingers clean of the sticky luscious honey. 

On the first day the Second Division, including the 
Marine Brigade, had not only cleared the defense of 
Landres-et-St. Georges and the Bois-de-Hazois but 
we continued our advance to the vicinity of Fosse, 
going against not only the permanent but the reliev- 
ing forces in our front. Then followed our attack 
and seizure of the enemy's line of defense on the 
ridge southeast of Vaux-en-Dieulet. Later we de- 
feated the enemy on the border of Belval Forest and 
then pressed forward in a heavy rain through the 
forest and occupied a position on the heights 

74 



south of Beaumont. We finally occupied Beaumont 
and Letanne and threw the enemy on its front across 
the Meuse to where we had now advanced with 
orders to cross it and seize the commanding position 
the Germans held on its eastern bank. 

The Second Engineers, who were an element of 
our division, in the face of a heavy artillery and ma- 
chine gun fire, hastily threw a pontoon bridge across 
the river, which was blown up, but with rare skill, 
endurance and courage they quickly built another. 
Over it we rushed until the enemy fire became too hot 
and destructive, when many of us jumped from it 
and pulled our way to the shore hand over hand 
along its side. We drove on until the morning of 
November 11th, when at 11 o'clock it was announced 
that an armistice had been signed. Hostilities were 
stopped and the last shot had been fired. 

Among the many commendations that followed we 
quote this one : 

Headquarters Second Division (Regular) Amer- 
ican Expeditionary Forces 
Order 
France, November 12, 1918. 
On the night of November 10th heroic deeds were 
done by heroic men. In the face of a heavy artillery 
and withering machine gun fire, the Second Engi- 
neers threw two foot bridges across the Meuse and 
the First and Second Battalions of the Fifth Marines 
crossed resolutely and unflinchingly to the east bank 
and carried out their mission. In the last battle of 
the war, as in all others in which this division has 
participated, it enforced its will on the enemy. 
(Signed) John A. Lejeune, 

Major General, U. S. M. C, Commanding. 

75 




CHAPTER XI 

The Army of Occupation 

E were not surprised when it 
was announced that an armis- 
tice had been signed by the Ger- 
mans and although we had ex- 
pected that the Allied offensive 
would be carried further into Ger- 
many, perhaps against Berlin, it 
was better to thus spare any fur- 
ther human slaughter and devasta- 
tion. 
It had been noted in a recent communique that 
the Germans admitted the Hindenburg line was 
broken, and, despite their stubborn resistance in the 
Argonne, they would have been mad men not to have 
realized that those rugged, fearless, nimble Yanks 
whom they said could not fight were contributing 
largely to their final defeat. It was not alone the 
work of the intrepid Second Division that forced this 
conviction upon them but the various elements of 
every division in the American Expeditionary Forces 
engaged in this stupendous struggle had also repeat- 
edly emphasized this fact, and, what greater evidence 
need the world require of American determination 
than when a battalion of the Seventy-seventh Di- 
vision, becoming entirely cut off for three days from 
other units of the division, was surrounded by the 
old Landwehr from Wurttenburg, and when sum- 



77 



moned by them to surrender, although this lost bat- 
talion was up against every variety of furious attack, 
the answer was "Go to Hell!" 

From the heights on the Meuse we could now hear 
the Germans, about one kilometer away, celebrating 
the armistice. Bands played all night and bonfires 
blended into the aurora of another day. Doubt and 
caution still controlled us, however, and with all our 
outposts placed we watched and waited,, expecting 
them to come back and make a drive upon us. 

Again, and for the last time, we gathered and 
buried the dead, picked up salvage, cleaned a battle- 
field, and in due time were ready for our long hike 
into Germany. 

Within two days we had crossed into Belgium 
where this study, brave nation that had said so de- 
fiantly to the "All Highest" "You shall not pass" 
welcomed us with open arms. When we thought of 
their suffering, the revolting outrages they had been 
subjected to, and saw the irretrievable loss and stu- 
pendous destruction inflicted upon these humble, 
wholesome people during the past four years, our 
hearts went out to them. Lattice arches covered 
with flowers were erected for us to march under, 
jazz bands were organized for our delight and streets 
were converted into dance halls. Nothing was too 
good for us, in fact, the Belgians even offered to give 
up their homes to us in order that we might enjoy 
the luxury of sleeping in real beds. We were sorry 

78 



when we parted from them and felt it a privilege to 
have contributed towards their deliverance. 

For a while now there was a repetition of events, 
and when Thanksgiving Day came naturally our 
minds reverted to home. Not alone did our imagina- 
tion revel in the aroma of a home-cooked feast, but 
we knew that from pulpits and rostrums throughout 
our own, our native land, there was being delivered 
eulogies and from choir lofts songs of praise were 
ascending in thanksgiving for the end of war. 

No hearty greeting was accorded us through Lux- 
emburg. There was no cheering,, no smiling here, 
but there was no defiance. 

Replacements recently arrived in France had 
joined us and it was like getting a letter from home 
to hear all that they told us relative to the States. 
Our companies were now filled up to standard and 
we took up the last lap of our march, crossing the 
Rhine about the middle of December. 

During this long march brigade headquarters was 
successively established at Margut, Bellefontaine, 
Arlon, Usseldange, Berg, Eppeldorf, Neuerburgh, 
Waxv/eiler, Prum, Budeshein, Wiesbaum, Antweiler, 
Neuenahr, Burgbrohl, Rheinbrohl, and Honningen. 
During the greater part of the occupation of Ger- 
many headquarters of the Fourth Brigade was at 
Neider Bieber,. excepting when just prior to Ger- 
many signing the peace treaty it was at Herschbach. 

Our divisional headquarters was at Neuweid, over 

79 



the roads of which Csesar and his legions rode in 55 
B. C. to subdue the barbaric tribes then inhabiting 
it. It was incorporated as a city in 1653 and was 
pillaged in 1673 by the armies of the French and 
Hollanders. In 1792 it was invaded by Napoleon 
and in 1870 as in this world war it was the central 
recruiting station for the Reserve Battalions; but 
now Old Glory and the Globe, Anchor and Eagle 
(device of the U. S. Marine Corps) floated over it in 
temporary occupancy while the Prussian Eagle 
moulted. The entire division covered considerable 
area and each unit was not long in getting settled. 
The men were billeted with the inhabitants in many 
towns, a rifle range was built, company mess halls 
were erected and on the lawn surrounding those of 
the Marines they worked out in stone the design of 
the Star and Indian, Corps badge of the Second 
Division, and also the device of the United States 
Marine Corps. Although hostilities had ceased we 
were an army in the enemy's country. Discipline 
had to be maintained, vigilence exercised and frater- 
nizing was inconsistent. 

Our principal duty was to man a Rhine River 
patrol. Our mornings were devoted to drills, exer- 
cises in tactics and caring for our equipment, but 
the Germans were so saturated with militarism that 
only a superior feat could make them notice. This 
was supplied to them when the Second Engineers 
broke all records and bridged the Rhine at Honnin- 

80 



gen with pontoons in 581/2 minutes. Because of the 
swift current here the Germans had always thought 
the Rhine could not be bridged at this point, and in 
other places where they had bridged it previously 
themselves their best record was about four hours. 
Our afternoons were devoted to relaxation, rest, 
amusement, study, athletics or an excursion on the 
Rhine, as far up as the Lorelei Rock, or as far down 
as Bonn, everything free, as you glided by castles 
and objects of interest while a lecturer narrated 
their history. Leave centers were established at 
various towns where shelter, food and entertainment 
were supplied to us, and at some of these there were 
famous mineral baths, where kings and other poten- 
tates, yea, even Wilhelm and Willie, had splashed in 
royal tubs; but now they were being polluted by 
those Devil Dogs, Ach Gott! 

Reading and writing rooms were also maintained 
at these leave centers by the Red Cross, Knights of 
Columbus, Salvation Army and Y. M. C. A. God 
bless them all for the spendid work they did both 
here and on the battlefields of France ! Schools were 
established and each man had an opportunity to ad- 
vance himself in some chosen course that would bene- 
fit him later in civil life. Beside the rudiments of 
education instructions were given in many trades 
and semi-professions. 

Sports of all kind were indulged in, football, base- 
ball, boxing and swimming. There were company 

81 



teams, battalion teams and divisional teams, and in 
all these contests the Marines lived up to tradition. 
The older Germans would watch our games of base- 
ball, listen to our yells and kidding, survey a fan, 
then shrug their shoulders in disgust and say "Those 
fool Americans !" But the German children watched, 
imitated and soon learned to play. Their young 
lives, however, were crowded with more serious 
things. We saw them at the tender age of five or six 
years going through all kinds of military drills, and 
if they failed to execute the commands correctly and 
quickly they were reprimanded in no gentle manner. 

Four events stand out as notable during these days 
when we occupied Germany. The first anniversary 
of the Battle of Belleau Wood was a gala occasion, 
when amid festivities our esteemed Divisional Com- 
mander, General Lejeune, sent us a message of felici- 
tation from the sky. On the Fourth of July we had 
a never-to-be-forgotten celebration when among 
other pyrotechnic stunts we set off so many smoke 
bombs on the top of a hill that the inhabitants fled 
for their lives, thinking it was gas. Equally as mem- 
orable were the reviews of General Pershing and 
Secretary of the Navy Daniels, for these were epoch- 
making days, when brave Americans were decorated 
on a plateau over which the crack German Eighth 
Corps had maneuvered many times before their lord 
and master, by divine right. Kaiser William II. 

Every pay day the boys loaded up with souvenirs 

82 



of all kinds and if you happened to have any soap or 
chocolate, the Germans would barter almost any- 
thing in exchange for them. What we missed most, 
next to home, was tobacco. It was so scarce that 
many a man paid $5.00 for a bag of Bull Durham, 
and butts of Piedmonts, Camels or Fatimas were at 
a premium. Only those who went through the death 
mill can realize how big a bit tobacco did in helping 
one to forget how long and tedious was a march, how 
one inhale got you by the darkest moment in life, 
and how the "makings" from a buddie welded a com- 
radeship as tender as it was manly. 

Even with all this diversity of duty and attrac- 
tion every man had the homesick blues, and yearned 
for the day when he'd land in some American har- 
bor. The 12th of July had been set for the Germans 
to sign the peace terms and in case they should back 
down we marched further into Germany and formed 
our lines ready for a further advance. Subordina- 
tion was the result and we marched back to our for- 
mer camp, where we turned in all our excess sup- 
plies, loaded on trains July 17th for Brest, France, 
and evacuated Germany. 



83 




CHAPTER XII 

Home Again 

OING home! How good it 
sounded after all the false ru- 
mors and postponements of this 
happy event since the armis- 
tice, for home now meant mora 
than a pile of bricks and mortar, 
more than a shingle roof and con- 
structed timber. It meant, not 
alone the joy of rushing into out- 
stretched loving arms but it also meant America 
whic^we now loved more than ever, and time could 
not speed up fast enough to land us there. We were 
soon out of Germany and once again passing over 
the old battlefields of France, taking a last look 
at the scars upon nature and the havoc wrought 
upon many of man's choicest creations. 

Summer was at its height, and where only a few 
months before hordes of warring troops crushed 
every sprouting thing beneath their feet, and where 
shells cut deep into turf or tree, a new life had 
arisen. Birds had nested in the cannon's mouth 
and crawling things, not long since frightened by 
barrage and bomb fire had ventured forth again. 
The sun seemed redder than before and fields of pop- 
pies bowed their scarlet heads as we rode along. 
Could it be, you thought, that the gore of legions 



85 



slaughtered here had bloomed to cheer the living! 
But the rows of white crosses ! What memories they 
brought of many a buddie who had roughed it with 
you, clean through from the boot camp, when you 
were rookies together. How you shared your hard- 
ships and your dangers. How each gave to the other 
more than half share of his blanket, and how, in the 
long weary marches, you leaned alternately on each 
other as a prop when fagged. The joy of sharing 
fifty-fifty in your boxes from home, the exchange of 
confidences, all loomed up before you as you realized 
you were going home where love and joy awaited you, 
while they were left behind buried in a distant rest 
camp. 

Perhaps a Marine is not supposed to have senti- 
ment but man is a complex creature; frequently a 
combination of contradictory opposites, oftimes so 
ugly that he is handsome, as cruel as he is tender, a 
dainty Dresden china lion or a sugar tiger sweet 
enough to hang on any Christmas tree,, capable of 
wading through volcanic barrages or sipping pink 
tea, and his emotions run the gamut from a roaring 
lion to a bleating lamb. So, being human, the mist 
of held back tears clouded the eyes of many as we 
waved farewell to the nodding poppies and our de- 
parted buddies under them. 

Four nights and three days of travel brought us 
to Brest, from where we were to sail for home. A 
great many Marines had been returned from Europe 

86 



in small detachments ahead of the Fourth Brigade, 
since the armistice had become operative, and it was 
not until September that the company forming a part 
of the Composite Regiment, Third Army, had been 
returned and late in December when the Fifteenth 
Separate Battalion of U. S. Marines were back again 
in America. 

The voyage homeward was uneventful and after 
landing at Hoboken, N. J., we were transferred in 
boats to Long Island and entrained for Camp Mills, 
N. Y. Then followed a parade in New York City on 
August 8th when we were given an ovation by the 
metropolis. A day later we were back once more at 
Quantico, mid the green fields of old Virginia, where 
we got our training before going overseas and where 
during the period of the war approximately 40,000 
Marines had been handled by about 1,000 officers. 

In the process of demobilization the Marine 
Brigade was now detached from the Army and re- 
stored to the control of the Navy Department, as 
shown by the following : 

War Department, August 12, 1919, 

Hon. Josephus Daniels, 

Secretary of the Navy. 
My Dear Mr. Secretary : 

In the process of demobilization, the Marine 
Brigade, which by the President's order became a 
part of the American Expeditionary Forces and was 
thus a part of the forces under the control of the 
War Department and under the command of General 

87 



Pershing, has now been returned to this country, 
detached from the Army, and restored to the control 
of the Navy Department. 

I cannot permit this heroic force to terminate its 
association with the Army without expressing to 
you, and through you to the officers and men of the 
Marine Corps, the deep sentiment of the War De- 
partment and of the Army toward it. The whole 
history of the Brigade in France is one of conspic- 
uous service; when it was finally incorporated into 
the Second Division of the American Army it had 
early an opportunity to give a heroic demonstration 
of the unconquerable tenacity and dauntless courage 
of American soldiers. From then on in successive, 
almost continuous, battles the Marine Brigade and 
the division of which it was a part fought sternly 
and successfully until victory was obtained for the 
Allied Armies. Throughout this long contest the 
Marines, both by their valor and their tragic losses, 
heroically sustained, added an imperishable chapter 
to the history of America's participation in the 
World War. 

On behalf of the Army I congratulate the Navy 
Department, the Major General commanding the 
Marines, those who have been instrumental in the 
formation and training of this splendid organization, 
and the officers and men of the organization itself. 
Cordially yours, 

Newton D. Baker. 

In reply Acting Secretary Roosevelt said : 

Hon. Newton D. Baker, 

Secretary of War, Washington, D. C. 
Dear Mr. Secretary : 

Your very cordial letter and the tribute it bore to 
the Fourth Brigade of Marines was received with 
pleasure and deepest appreciation. The heroism of 
the Marines and the Regulars in the famous Second 
Division, and their sacrifices,, have endeared them to 

88 



all Americans, and it is with very pardonable pride 
that we welcome them back to the Navy. 

The spirit of cordial co-operation between the 
Army and Navy was never better manifested than 
in the participation of these Marines in the great 
battles in France under the command of General 
Pershing as a part of the United States Army, and 
shoulder to shoulder with units of the Regular Army. 
It is with extreme gratification that we can look back 
upon this unbroken co-operation between our two 
departments that started at the time the first Navy 
ship carried troops to France and continued unin- 
terruptedly through to the end. 

On behalf of Secretary Daniels, the Commandant 
of the Marine Corps, the officers and men of that 
organization, I wish to thank you for the sentiments 
expressed in your letter and convey to you our ap- 
preciation of the heroism of the officers and men of 
the Army who with the Marines made the Second 
Division one of the greatest fighting organizations 
the world has ever known. 

It is very gratifying in our pride over the achieve- 
ments of the Marines, to know that that pride is 
shared by the War Department and your warm ap- 
probation of their conduct as a part of the Army 
will be treasured by the Corps as well as by the 
individuals. 

Sincerely yours, 

Franklin D. Roosevelt, 
Acting Secretary of the Navy. 

Then came our parade in Washington, D. C, on 
August 12th, when we marched up historic Penn- 
sylvania Avenue 8,000 strong through lines of cheer- 
ing patriots and were reviewed in front of the White 
House by President Wilson, General March and Gen- 
eral Barnett, who was Commandant of the U. S. 
Marine Corps at that time. 

89 



But the gaps in our ranks told a mute story. Our 
divisional casualties had been about ten per cent 
of the total casualties of the American Expeditionary- 
Forces, but we had the proud distinction of having 
advanced more kilometers, and of capturing more 
prisoners and cannon than any other division. 

After returning to our barracks a farewell speech 
was delivered by our Divisional Commander, Gen- 
eral Lejeune, later Commandant of the U. S. Marine 
Corps, which was followed by demobilization, when 
those who were not transferred to other detachments 
entered civil life again and hastened to their re- 
spective homes. And, today, whether we veterans 
of the incomparable World War gather together as 
civilians, in shop, office or mill, around the village 
pump or in barracks as re-enlisted men in some 
branch of our Country's service, it is interesting 
to note the dispassionate review of each division's 
record in the great conflict. The only summary is 
that it was a wonderful aggregation of the flower 
of American manhood, and that every Division in 
the American Expeditionary Forces, in combination 
with the excellently trained forces of our Allies, was 
an indomitable power that hammered the Germans 
back. Praise, honor and glory to them all; the In- 
fantry, Artillery and Machine Gun Battalions; the 
Engineers, Train and Military Police; the Ammu- 
nition, Sanitary and Supply Trains; the Signal 
Corps, Ordnance Repair and Veterinarians; the 

90 



Motor Truck, Salvage, Quartermaster and Mobile 
Surgical Corps ; the fearless Red Cross Men, Nurses 
and Chaplains ; the zealous K. of C, Y. M. C. A. and 
Salvation Army workers; the brawny Navy Gun- 
ners ; the humane gobs,, those Navy "Docs" who gave 
us first aid and held the last draught to many a 
dying comrade's lips, the Runners, Orderlies and 
Clerks in Base Hospitals; the Clothing, Bath, Laun- 
dry, Mess and Bakery Units; yea, and hats off to 
the poor dumb beasts, the dogs, horses and mules 
that bore and helped us on to victory. 

What a wonderful thing it is for any man to have 
come through it all without being even scratched or 
to have survived, as one did, after having been 
wounded eighteen times, and who are better quali- 
fied than we who have stood upon the threshold of 
eternity to answer if we are better men because of 
this. We know we are. We know that our suffering, 
and our sacrifices have brought us closer to our fel- 
lowman. We know better now how to reverence age, 
how to control our desires, how to respect constituted 
authority, how to help ourselves and how to lend a 
helping hand to the oppressed. While we always 
thought we loved America first we are doubly sure 
of it now, and imbedded with this love is the pardon- 
able pride of having been one of the immortal Second 
Division, of having upheld the traditions of the 
Marine Corps, which since 1775 has been "Always 
Faithful," and, if there be cause in the future we 
will respond to our Country's call again ! 

91 



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